


He's Alive

by agentmoonshoes



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1928127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmoonshoes/pseuds/agentmoonshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the season 1 finale, we never had a chance to see Simmons truly react to Fitz's fate. This is my take on how Simmons dealt with the situation. Takes place post-rescue, and pre-reunion with the team. Platonic/Romantic ambiguity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on ff.net on May 14th, as a way for me to wrap my brain around what had just happened to my science babies. Angst and drama below. For a happier take, read my newer fic, "He's Awake".

**"He's Alive"**

Jemma had begged to follow him, but they'd wheeled her into a separate room in the medical base. Logically, she understood why. Fitz had to be treated for injuries far beyond her own, not the least of which his comatose state.

But still. Even though she knew it made no medical sense, Jemma _needed_ to follow Fitz. How was he supposed to get better without her? Clearly the only way he would be properly fixed is if they were together, right? Unfortunately, the doctors Fury had left them with at his hidden base didn't seem to share her point of view, so Jemma had to sit and wait for her own health clearance before going to find her best friend.

When that moment finally arrived, a nurse showed her the way. They wound through a series of hallways for several minutes, until coming to a stop.

"There's not much more we can do until he wakes up," the nurse told her upon arriving at a grey metal door. "We'll know more then. For now…well. You'll see. I'll give you a moment,"

"Thank you," Jemma replied, holding herself steady. As soon as the nurse was out of sight, she turned the doorknob and held her breath.

One of Jemma's greatest strengths was her ability to pull away and assess these sorts of situations calmly and with a clear mind. But when she laid eyes on Fitz in his hospital bed, that strength dissolved into tiny little bits of nothingness.

_Fitz._

He looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes. Skin far paler than usual. If she didn't know better, she'd guess he was...

_No._ He was alive. That much she knew. But when she tried to say his name out loud, she found she couldn't. Instead, her eyes just spilled over with tears. _  
_

She wasn't sure how long she stood in that doorway, watching his motionless body, mentally going through each piece of equipment they had him attached to and cataloging all the different things they were treating him for. Time stretched from seconds to minutes, and eventually her tears slowed to less of a waterfall and more of a quiet stream.

"I'm so sorry, Fitz," she finally managed, just barely above a whisper. "So, _so_ sorry." Then Jemma took a shaky breath and straightened her shirt. "But. At least you're alive. Right? We can work with that, can't we?"

That got her feet moving. She walked over to his bedside and sat down on the mattress, careful not to disturb him.

"We can fix this," she continued, her voice carrying a cheeriness that she knew Fitz would recognize as false, but she pressed on anyway. "I mean look, we're together still. Isn't that something? After all that, too." Offering up a smile, Jemma reached for his right hand. His left was held up in a sling over a sizable cast. "There's hope yet." 

Fitz remained still. His hand was eerily warm to the touch.

_Fever,_ she realized, glancing at his vitals monitor. _A bad one, too. Poor Fitz._

"You saved me, you know?" she said. "You did it. And there's a convincing body of medical literature that says comatose patients can absorb information around them through their subconscious, so if you absorb anything Fitz, please absorb that. You saved me. You're the hero. Again." Jemma could feel her lips start to quiver as another tear ran down her cheek. " _My_ hero."

No movement.

Jemma's eyebrows knit together. "Oh, _Fitz,_ " she sighed. "You didn't have to do this. I mean, I know _why_ you did this. I just don't understand it. Why me, of all people? Why do you--why do--" She couldn't even finish the question without her face flushing. _Why love me?_

Looking back on it all, Jemma knew that she should've seen this coming. She should've noticed something at least. His caring for her explained so much of the past several weeks. It even explained a few nagging things from the past several years.

And of _course_ he hadn't said anything to her about it. That was textbook Fitz. Saying something would've changed the status quo, and without her lead, he fought that sort of thing like a fuzzy little Ewok fighting back Stormtroopers.

_Fitz…_

Jemma pinched the bridge of her nose, pulling her emotions back into check. She wasn't going to be of any use to her best friend as a blubbering mess. Even though the doctors told her that she couldn't help with his treatment due to personal connections, there had to be something she could do.

His words burned in her brain. _"You're more than that, Jemma."_

She couldn't let him down.

"Fitz, we need to talk," Jemma said. "You have to wake up."

Fitz didn't budge.

"Come on, stop avoiding it. There's an important conversation we need to have, and you have to be awake for it," she insisted, letting her tone sharpen. "Now wake up."

Still nothing. Not even a flicker from the fluorescent lights above.

Jemma squeezed his hand tighter. "Fitz, you sacrificed yourself for me without even giving me a chance to respond to what you'd said! You have to wake up and talk this over with me. It's kind of a big deal!"

Her voice cracked a bit. Desperation was starting to show through.

"Fitz. _Please_. Fitz!"

Memories flooded her. The darkness. The reduced oxygen levels. Fitz's arms around her, comforting her in the face of his own death. _"It's okay,"_ he'd said.

"It's NOT okay!" Jemma exclaimed, shouting at the boy in his hospital bed. "Fitz, _please_ , you have to give me a chance to tell you how much you mean to me!" She dropped his hand and threw her arms around his shoulders, just like in the medical pod. This time, though, her face squished into the pillow under his head, and her tears leaked onto it instead of his shoulders. " _Fitz!_ "

She held him close, crying his name into his ear. He was delicate in this state. So very delicate. Reminding herself to be careful, she loosened her grip, getting her sobs under control. After a few moments of counting her breaths to slow them down, Jemma allowed herself a softer embrace.

Her arms laced behind his head gently, as if he were a newborn child. " _Please_ ," Jemma whispered. Leaning over, she kissed him just below his temple. Once. Twice. Three times. "Fitz, please come back to me." She kissed him again, pressing her lips to his forehead and holding them there.

When she finally dared look up, to her agonizing dismay, not a single monitor had changed. Fitz was no closer to consciousness than the metal instruments to which he was connected.

And that's when Jemma realized what the logical side of her had known all along. At this point in time...there wasn't anything she could do. Fitz wasn't Fitz right now. He was just _there._ Maybe he'd be more again someday, but until then…

Jemma unwound her hands and pulled back, inhaling so deep it physically hurt. The air felt cold against her skin without him, but the nurse would surely be back any moment, and she didn't want to look like she'd been disturbing her patient.

Jemma backed up from the bed. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she observed his own rise and fall. She swallowed her spiraling emotions, one thought left occupying her mind:

Her visit hadn't made a difference to him.

Which shouldn't be a surprise. Really. She was a scientist, and she knew miracles in actuality just came down to luck and chance. She wasn't going to be able to save him with _feelings_. Medical science would have to suffice. It was what she'd built her whole career on, after all.

But she'd throw it all away in an instant if it meant that hugs could be just as powerful as life support systems.

* * *

Out in the hangar, the plane's hatch slowly lowered. Jemma steadied herself, preparing to face the team. They'd all made it. Somehow, they'd all done the impossible and survived.

Seeing them all standing together filled Jemma with warmth, and she walked forward to hug an incredibly relieved Skye. For the briefest of moments, things felt okay. Then Coulson put a hand on her shoulder and Skye asked the question Jemma had been dreading.

"Fitz? Is he okay?" Skye's face searched hers, and Jemma recognized the desperation. " _Please_ tell me he's okay," she said.

Jemma pulled back to look at each member of the team. They all cared for Fitz. They'd want some kind of hope.

But lying had never been Jemma's strong suit. So with the biggest smile she could muster, she answered:

"He's alive."

And for now, that would just have to do.


End file.
